therefore we commit his body to the ground
earth to earth
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
And his tears fell like the rain
as he embraced his wife
and younger son
touching his lips to the casket
of his first born.

His look would say it all.
What kind of boy are you?
We didn’t raise you to be this way
to make me ashamed
that you’re my son.
I think you need counseling
with the church psychologist.
There’s a summer camp for boys like you
to help you shed unnatural lusts
through daily bible study.

I think you may need treatment
in a residential setting
where you can be cured
of this disease.
Away from us.
Away from this family
and away from your brother.
We will all pray for you son.

And by the way
don’t you dare tell your mother
’cause you will break her heart
and she’ll think it’s all her fault.
I’ll tell her just before
you have to leave.

And as the son headed up the stairs
he heard his dad call out to him
Where are you going young man?
And the son answered with a gentle smile
“I’m just gonna hang dad…….”
entering his room

opening the door

to the closet.

An excerpt from "Initial Verses; a collection of poems on love, loss, poverty and war"

http://www.amazon.com/Initial-Verses-Collection-Poems-Poverty/dp/1475082681/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1340804399&sr=1-1&keywords=initial+verses+scarangello